Review: FUNNY VALENTINES at Chaffin's Barn

Ah, the 1970s - what a decade, am I right? - the perfect time period for theatrical farce, what with its polyester double-knit slacks, soft and silky Nik-Nik shirts, some swell television sitcoms and the rise of entertainment conglomerates to gobble up the so-called "little guys" in order to allow commercialism to run amok and for the notion of selling out one's soul for personal gratification and financial gain to become part of the American way of life. Let's face it: Isn't all that what has led to and created the current climate of political division and personal derision?

Director Martha Wilkinson and her talented cast of players bring that much-maligned, if justifiably so, decade to life on the magic floating stage at Chaffin's Barn Dinner Theatre in D.R. Anderson's Funny Valentines, now running through March 13 at Nashville's iconic venue which this season celebrates its 50th anniversary season.

The stuff of Pulitzer Prizes and Tony Awards it's not, but Funny Valentines - with its wacky concepts, comical and misguided moments and over-the-top characters - harkens back to the Barn's legacy of well-produced comedies that go down well with heaping helpings of tender roast beef and scalloped potatoes and a peanut butter pie that will make you want to slap your mama, whether or not you are a Southerner (seeing as that phrase seems to be a regional colloquialism, don't you know). It's not even the best of the genre, of course, but Funny Valentines gives Wilkinson yet another chance to work her directorial magic to create some onstage hilarity and to draw some genuinely effective performances from her five-member cast.

Led by the charming Brett Cantrell as a klutzy and cartoonish nebbish of a children's book writer, the comedy goes down relatively easy, but thanks to the 1970s ambience created by the director and the rest of her creative team (which includes costume designer aka "audience favorite" Lydia Bushfield, who does double duty as the matriarch of said comedy) craft an aesthetic that quickly whisks you away on the time-travel machine activated by the machinations of that magic floating stage, great comic timing and one perfectly-delivered "Impostor!" line that helped to capture the decade's zaniness and pop culture zeitgeist with aplomb.

Early in his career, Cantrell's Andrew Robbins some years earlier created a children's book series centered on the character of Beanie the Bear, so when the curtain rises (metaphorically speaking), his agent Howard Levy knocks on the door of his Upper West Side apartment to deliver the news (and the contracts) that a huge media conglomerate wants to buy Beanie for cartoon and marketing purposes. The catch is that Beanie was created by Andy and his now ex-wife, Ellen, who's a crunchy granola-munching Smith College grad who left him because he has the personality and manners of a spoiled six-year-old. Add to this intriguing mix the media conglomerate rep who's as serious as all get out (but gets all sexed up once she meets Andy since she's loved Beanie since she was a kid) and Ellen's mom, a Danbury, Connecticut matron who dresses like Maud Findlay and has some of the script's best one-liners.

There's absolutely no way you can confuse Funny Valentines with Long Day's Journey Into Night: the comedy is pretty lightweight, but entertaining, and it's highly unlikely that you'll find yourself in deep discussions post-curtain about American policy in Vietnam or Richard Nixon's ultimate political downfall (both of which are topics that were much-talked-about during the decade). But that's not what we want of our dinner theater comedies; rather, when we make our way to the chow-and-bow circuit, we want to laugh and to escape.

Perhaps there's no group of actors more qualified to help us escape the realities of the 21st century than the quintet assembled by the aforementioned Wilkinson. Cantrell delivers his lines with ease, while showing an equally adept way with physical comedy. Jeremy Maxwell, as his manipulative agent (but aren't all agents manipulative?) looks just like The Simpsons' Disco Stu, what with is flare-legged, polyester plaid sacks and denim vest, sporting a Jewfro; Jenny Norris-Light - as Van Wilkinson, the California-bred Beanie superfan who's in NYC to hammer out a deal, but might actually prefer hammering of a different kind once she meets Andy; and Audrey Johnson, as the now-pregnant ex-wife who appears on the scene to provide conflict and inject some tension into the frothy onstage proceedings (Johnson's great as Ellen, but let's face it: Ellen's a bitch and her intentions are often confusing and unclear).

But for my money, top acting honors goes to Bushfield, as Ellen's protective mom who attempts to right the ship, as it were, with her sage advice and maternal wisdom. That she's clad in knockoffs of Maude Findlay's (Edith Bunker's liberal cousin who got her very own, eponymous sitcom from Norman Lear - possibly before many of you were born. Jeez.) flowy caftans and maxi-vests. Bushfield shows off an ability to play older with a natural comic skill that ensures her lines land adroitly, particularly her melodramatic utterance of "Impostor!" that is sheer perfection.

• Funny Valentines. By D.R. Anderson. Directed by Martha Wilkinson. Produced by Janie and John Chaffin. Presented by Chaffin's Barn Dinner Theatre, Nashville. Through March 13. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes (with one 15-minute intermission).

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